


A Case of You

by moss_writes



Category: The Monkees (Band), The Monkees (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M, not jolenz endgame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23897155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moss_writes/pseuds/moss_writes
Summary: It's been a while, and Davy Jones has settled into his relationship with Micky Dolenz. Until he walks in on Micky with a girl, and everything shatters into a million pieces.---This is a collaborative fic, and although my partner in crime has elected to remain anonymous, I'd like to thank them. There should be fairly regular updates, we have quite a bit of it written ;)
Relationships: Davy Jones/Mike Nesmith, Micky Dolenz/Davy Jones, Micky Dolenz/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 8
Kudos: 19





	1. Say No to This

Davy stood in the doorway, staring at the two people in bed in shock. A blonde he'd never seen before... and Micky.

He slowly backed up, his head reeling and his stomach plummeting into his shoes. A moment later, just as he was almost out of the room, Micky glanced up, his eyes widening. He shot up out of bed. The girl beneath him yelped and grabbed for the sheet to cover herself up as he scrambled over her. 

Davy’s stomach riled. He turned on his heels and started hurrying down the stairs. Micky didn't even bother to tug on pants before he ran after him.

"Davy- Davy wait! Sto-stop walking away! Would you please just look at me?" he yelled, and Davy did stop, though he didn't bother to turn and look at Micky.

“Please don't walk out…." Micky pleaded. His words seemed to lose their meaning as the gorgeous blonde who seemed to tower over Davy filled both of their minds. Once upon a time, Davy might have gone after her himself.

“Don’t walk out….” Micky repeated, snapping Davy back to reality.

"Why shouldn't I? Give me one good reason not to walk right out that door,” Davy said.

Slowly turning around, his breath caught in his throat at Micky’s face. He at least seemed to look a little embarrassed at what he'd done. His mouth opened and shut a few times, and for once, the man was silent. 

“I see." Davy shook his head, and Micky hung his head.

"For what it's worth, I'm sorry.." Micky mumbled, and when Davy looked back up he was almost astounded at the words leaving Micky's mouth. "I didn't mean for it to happen, I never meant to hurt you. She-- she doesn't mean anything to me. It was just the one time, and the one girl, and I'm sorry. It was a mistake and I regretted it as soon as it star-"

"Then why didn't you finish it when it started?" Davy asked, backing away again. He found himself sitting on the couch, and Micky followed him, sitting next to him. 

"You don't have an answer, do you?” Davy refused to look at him. “Because it isn't true, you didn't regret it. If you did you never would have done it, and she wouldn't have ended up here, in our bedroom, and… please don't do that." He added, shoving Micky's hand off of his knee.

"Davy, I swear it'll never happen again..." Micky started, trailing off as he noticed a tear trailing down Davy's cheek. That was when it really sunk in. Davy was really hurt by this. "I just, y'know.. had a moment of weakness…" Micky tried, but Davy actually moved away from him, standing back up.

"You don't seem to get it, do you?" Davy said, and Micky could hear the anger in his voice, though normally that wouldn't have bothered him. It wasn't the anger, he supposed, more the coolness coloring it. He'd never heard Davy sound so… cold. 

“This isn't just you apologizing and me forgiving you. This is bigger than that. You really messed up.. and I'm not sure if I can forgive this…."

Just as Micky opened his mouth, the front door opened and Mike and Peter walked in.

"Oh hey guys, how's it goi- are we… interrupting?" Mike asked, noticing Micky's lack of clothing. "We can always go out again so you two can have a little privacy." He added with a chuckle.

"Oh no, come on in. There won't be anything to interrupt for a long time. Unless Micky brings someone else home." Davy's voice was filled with contempt as he pulled away, scooting to the other end of the sofa.

Micky reached for him. "It's okay. You know I'd never hurt you, Davy. I love you so much."

The words put a sour taste in Davy's mouth. In his mind, he could plainly see Micky's lips on the girl's neck, her arms around his neck, without a care in the world, and his stomach plummeted. But the feel of Micky's eyes on him, and the sound of his voice... it was all so familiar. So comforting. So… right. 

"What do you say?" Micky whispered, reaching forward and turning Davy's head toward him. "Can you trust me again? Please?”

The words Micky had been uttering to the girl before flashed across Davy's mind with a searing intensity. But... there was Micky now; his eyes wide and desperate, looking only at Davy. And Davy was suddenly very aware that Micky was buck-naked.

"I--" Davy started.

"So Micky, what do you say? Same time Thursday, like last week?" 

Davy's head whipped around. The girl-- the tall, thin, beautiful blonde who was everything Davy Jones wasn't-- was standing in the door, wrapped in a towel. Her eyes widened. "Oh... shit. Hi, Mr. Jones. I didn't know-- I didn't see you were still here."

She glanced expectantly at Micky. 

"Actually... I don't think we shou-" Micky started, before he felt a glare aimed at the back of his head.

"Hey, do me a favor?'' Davy turned to the blonde in their doorway, who nodded. "Get out. And honestly? Don't come back." He waved her out, and she huffed a bit before leaving.

As soon as the door clicked shut, Micky turned back to Davy, white as a sheet, but still trying to charm his way back into Day's good graces. "Look Davy, I.. she misspoke and uh, I swear she's n-”

"You,” Davy growled. “You lied to me. You told me it was the first time this happened." He huffed out a laugh, a sick feeling settling deep in his stomach. "How many times have you seen her?" he asked, not sure he wanted to know as his hands started to shake.

"Just a few ti-”

"Don't lie again...." Davy pleaded, and Micky shuffled his feet.

"We met three months ago. at first.. it was innocent, y'know? Just talking. And then after a week or two she kissed me... and I told myself it was just the one time, it wouldn't happen again. But then it did. and it just kept happening. And.. and I didn’t stop it. I know I should have."

Davy gaped at him, stumbling a few steps back. For a moment all he could hear was his heart thumping in his chest. "This has been going on... You’ve been going behind my back for three. months with her."

Micky stepped forward and grabbed Davy’s wrist. "Baby--”

“No. Don't touch me. You don't deserve to anymore." Davy yanked his hand back, wrapping his arms around himself.

Micky could feel himself losing Davy. Could feel him slipping away. When he looked into his eyes, he didn't see Davy anymore. He just saw a scared, broken boy, hugging himself tightly, and Micky desperately wished he wasn't the one to hurt him.

He swallowed. "Davy....”

Davy didn't look at him.

What could he say? What on earth could he say that would make up for all of this? In Micky's mind, nothing could make up for hurting Davy. His Davy. Nothing. And he had gone and blown it.

"I love you,” he blurted.

Davy inhaled sharply through his nose. Over the last nine months, they had both said the words more times than they could say. But this one felt empty. Soulless. Without the actual love inside of it.

Micky looked imploringly at Davy. "I love you," he repeated, and he said it again. And again. And again, trying to bring some meaning into it.

Davy just shook his head. His entire body felt so... tired. His head felt so heavy and so cotton-y and so loud. He couldn't take this anymore. Couldn't take Micky’s eyes imploring him. Oh, how he loved those eyes. He shouldn't, still, but.....

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

Micky took a step back. "What?"

"You heard me. What the fuck is wrong with you, you son of a bitch?"

"Davy..." Micky tried again, moving a few steps closer this time.

"Micky, he clearly wants you to stay. back." Mike practically growled, and Peter took that chance to make his way over to Davy.

"Mike, back off!" Micky yelled, whipping around to face him. "This doesn't really involve you right now. it's between me and Davy." He turned back around, fully ready to ignore Mike. "Baby please, we can talk this out. I still love you y'know.." He reached out with both hands. 

Davy took yet another step away, and Micky could feel the separation deep in his bones. He'd messed up, and he didn't know how to come back from this. Even Peter sent a glare his way, one arm wrapping around Davy's waist for support.

"Micky, please... just go." Davy wrapped his arms more securely around himself, letting out a shaky breath. "I'm clearly not what you want, I never could be. You clearly like tall, blonde and easy." He spat the last few words, and Micky moved towards him again.

Only this time he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder, and before he knew what was happening, Mike turned him around and punched him right in the nose. Micky heard a yelp from behind him, and felt something warm and wet trickle down from his nostril. He was bleeding, he realized as he darted around Mike, who was shaking his hand a little. Micky decided he was lucky Mike wasn't a fan of rings.

He grabbed a towel from the kitchen to help with the bleeding. "I think you broke my nose.." he muttered, glancing up at Mike.

"Then catch a cab to the hospital.'' Mike growled at him, taking a menacing step forward.

“But it’s like 3am,” Micky whined.

“Get out!” Mike snapped, "And when they're done with you, I don't care where you go, just dont come back here."

After a dash upstairs to get dressed, Micky was gone. The door closed behind him with a menacing click, and Peter felt Davy shudder in his grip. Mike let out a deep sigh, looking shocked at what he'd just done as he turned back to Davy.

"Davy, are you okay?" He asked, and Davy simply shook his head, stunned into silence. Mike and Peter shared a look. And for a moment, everything stopped.

"I think I need to sit down,” Davy said suddenly, and Peter sat with him on the couch. Before anyone knew what was happening, Davy was crying. Peter realized that he'd never seen Davy cry, and he felt truly angry for the first time in years as Mike handed Davy a tissue.


	2. Sad Beautiful Tragic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micky ends up staying with his sister, and both he and Davy do some thinking about their relationship.

Micky’s sister let him stay in her apartment for the night, as it wasn't exactly looking like he was welcome back at the Pad right now. Coco Dolenz was a nice lady, a few years older, but not much. She was a good listener, and Micky was a good talker, which paired well together.

She was good at making tea, and her apartment always smelled of it. It was a small apartment compared to the Pad, but it was more decorated. Rugs and tapestries and wall hangings covered the walls, as well as shelves filled with antique china teacups and little figurines.

There wasn’t much furniture, but there was a couch and a few chairs and a breakfast table without chairs. Micky always thought that was funny and asked her where she sat, but Coco just laughed and said, “On the ceiling.”

Micky asked for a cup of tea as soon as he arrived in the door. His clothes were a mess, his disposition a shame, and his face a scowl (well, what was visible of it under the bandage over his nose). Immediately he collapsed onto the couch holding the tea, spilling half of it down the couch, but he didn't care. His feet hurt and his nose hurt and his heart hurt.

Coco gave him a look from the other side of the room. “That was half your tea you just made a mess of.”

Micky snorted, focused on his half-empty cup. “Yeah, and I made a mess of my life too.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you going to tell me what's going on, or just sit there and ruin my furniture?”

A smile cracked across Micky’s face, despite the fact that he was trying to make a show of despair. “Wow. Uh… So you know Davy?”

“No,” Coco said, sitting next to him. “Who’s that?”

Micky gave her a funny look. “The guy I’m in a band with?”

Coco’s eyes lit up. “You’re in a band?”

“Huh? Yeah! For like two years.” He froze, his heart skipping a beat. “Wait, how long has it been since I last saw you?”

“About two years.”

Micky smiled sheepishly. “I’m sorry…”

She shook her head. “It’s fine. It looks like you've been busy,” she laughed.

Looking away, Micky found a clock about halfway up the wall in the shape of a Cheshire Cat.

He was silent.

“Do you want another cup of tea while you rest?” Coco asked

He nodded, feeling the energy drain from his body and suddenly very glad that he was sitting down. 

“Yeah. It’s half-empty.”

“Nope. Half-full.”

“Wow. You’re so funny.”

“I know.”

………..

Micky explained everything to her. From the band, to his relationship with Davy, to Stella, to his broken nose. He was terrified that she’d kick him out for being… whatever kind of poufter he was, but she just nodded and kissed his cheek and brought back another cup of tea. “You can stay here as long as you want.”

He wanted nothing more to hug her in that moment, but he didn't trust his legs to keep him standing, so he just managed a weak smile. “Thanks.”

Coco nodded. She knew what he meant.

………….

Davy didn't sleep in his bed that night. He didn't want to think of it as his anymore. It hadn’t been his for a while. Not since the moment Micky couldn't say no to that girl. It was hers.

Mike was nice enough to offer his bed for the night, or until this was all sorted out. Davy spent the rest of the wee hours of the morning in Mike’s room, because there were fewer memories of Micky in there. Still some, but not as much as the bedroom.

It wasn't good. None of this was good. Davy just wanted to go to sleep and wake up when it was all over, but he couldn't sleep. Which was kind of funny.

He could faintly hear the voices of Mike and Peter discussing him in the next room. He decided he didn't want to know what they were saying.

Davy was sitting on the windowsill, his knees drawn up to his chest, staring out at the moonlit, star-filled ocean. It seemed so cliché, like he was some Navy wife waiting for her long-lost husband to come back from the sea. But he supposed that clichés did come from truth, since that was exactly what he was doing.

A record spun on the table. Davy had no idea who it was, only that Peter had given it to him and said, “This might help.” All the songs were crooned by a lady with a soft, thin voice that swirled up to high notes Davy never would have expected. It seemed they were all about heartbreak, which Davy figured was appropriate.

His heart wasn't all broken yet, though. There was still hope, wasn't there? Hope for it to go back to what it had been before… tonight. Because, really, it was fine before tonight. They had loved each other, and they were best friends already, and it was fine.

But it had been full of lies. The last three months had been one giant lie. One giant hoax. Fake.

“Fake,” Davy muttered, spitting out the word like it was a dead bug and drawing his knees up closer to his chest. “It’s all fake.”

He didn't like lies. They were unclean and confusing, because once they were spoken, they were at least a little true. But at the same time, so horribly untrue, it was sickening. Liars were confusing. Davy didn't like them.

And right now, he didn't like Micky.


	3. Nine Times Blue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micky attempts to win Davy's love back through song, but it backfires worse than he could imagine. He feels as though he's lost everything.

Mike set down his guitar. “I, uh, think we’ve practiced enough today.”

“Yeah, we sound great,” Peter said.

“Wait, hang on, guys,” Micky said, setting his drumsticks down and grabbing his guitar. “I, uh, wrote a new song if you guys want to hear it."

Davy tried to breathe a little deeper. He had a sense that this wouldn't exactly end well.

“Yeah, sure, Mick,” Mike said. He crossed his arms.

Micky fixed the guitar strap around his neck, adjusted his grip, and locked eyes with Davy. There was so much uncut energy in the air, Davy wondered if the room would combust. 

Micky started playing a plucky tune that emanated remorse. 

There’s a certain something in the way you looked at me and said you’d stay  
That let me know that I was out of line   
But I didn't know what else to do, and like a fool I tested you,  
By demanding things of you which weren't mine.

Davy drew back. Micky’s eyes still hadn't left Davy's face. He continued to sing, and the feeling in Davy’s stomach kept getting worse and worse.

I know that never in the world   
could I have found me such a boy  
Who's there to pick me up before I fall  
And if in the end we should go   
Both our separate ways  
I know the lesson I've learned here is worth it all.

Davy shook his head. God, this couldn't be real. Micky couldn't actually be doing this.

He turned and left.

Micky tossed his guitar aside and ran after him. “Jesus-- Davy, wait!”

Davy whirled around, his heart trying to pound its way out of his chest and into space. "What the fuck do you want from me?"

"I want you to trust me again," Micky said, reaching for Davy’s hands.

"Are you kidding me?" Davy snapped. "I can't trust you again! You went behind my back for months, Micky, months. You lied to me, and--"

"But you know now," Micky tried.

Davy scoffed. "Yeah, because I found you in my bed balls-deep in her!"

Micky dropped Davy's hands and backed away, his mouth opening and closing like a fish.

Mike shifted and nudged Peter. "Uh, Pete, maybe we should--"

Davy whirled around. "No! If anybody’s leaving, it's me."

He grabbed his maracas and tried for the door.

Micky lunged for him and caught his wrist. "Davy-- please..." His voice trailed off.

"Please what?" Davy said. “ ‘Please stay here so I can emotionally manipulate you? Please stay here so I can cheat on you without having the decency to tell you?' Yeah. I’ll get right on that."

Micky just shook his head. He didn't let go of Davy’s wrist. "Davy... god. I know. I know I fucked up. Real bad."

Davy scoffed.

Micky ignored him. "You don't even need to forgive me, Dav. I… I miss you, okay? I just wish it could be... back to normal."

"What, so you can go at it behind my back for another 3 months?" Davy shook his head and pulled free. "Just leave me alone. Leave me the fuck alone.”

Micky grabbed Davy's wrist again as he turned, desperate for him not to leave the room.

"Davy, don't walk out on us. We.. we really could've had the real thing...." Micky's voice was full of promise, his thumb rubbing Davy's wrist gently.

"I'm not the one walking out on us. You're the one that cheated, you're the one that brought someone else into our bed,” Davy shot back, trying to pull his hand free. In response Micky tightened his grip, his expression open, and Davy responded with a glare. "Let me go,” he practically growled.

"Let me talk to you." Micky quirked an eyebrow. He took a step closer to Davy. "Baby, please... I'm sorry about what happened. I know what I did was wrong, and I swear it'll never happen again. I love you. Babe, you're the one for me, I know that now. I was scared before. I'm not now."

Davy took a shuddering breath in, shifting his wrist in Micky's grip. "Micky, I'm scared now. Please let me go. I need time, and this," he gestured to their hands, "doesn't help me."

Micky glanced down at his hand around Davy's wrist, not realizing how tightly he'd been holding on. While he took time to understand what he was really doing, Davy shoved Micky's hand away and took a few steps back, cradling his wrist.

"Davy, baby, please. I'm so so sorry... I never meant to do anything to hurt you. I'm so sorry...." Micky pleaded. 

Davy just shook his head. "Please.. just stop...." 

Micky could see the hurt in Davy's eyes, and that felt worse than anything he could've said. 

Davy sniffed a little, before turning and retreating back to the bedroom. 

And this time, Micky just let him go.

There was a long silence. Micky could feel Mike and Peter’s eyes on him and he shook his head, self-deprecating laughter bubbling up in his throat. He had just had the exact same fight two days in a row. Davy trying to leave, Micky trying to make him stay, and their bandmates watching. It was the exact same thing done over again.

What if this kept happening? What if every day was like this, for the rest of their lives? What if every day was the same fight, the same pattern, the same words? What would he do?

Could he get out of it? He had to. He had to get Davy back. He had to. Davy was his. They just… clicked together. There was no way that they could just… spend the rest of their lives without each other. It wasn't right.

But with the way that Davy had left… He seemed like he genuinely didn't want anything to do with Micky anymore. Or ever. Which was impossible for Micky to comprehend. They loved each other. They did. Micky had always loved him, in different ways. Hadn't he? It was how it had all gone. From the first day he heard him sing, saw him smile, noticed his accent. From the day Davy had kissed him on the beach, to the first time they shared a bed.

“I loved him,” he whispered, just standing there and watching the door as if Davy was still there.

"If you loved him, then why'd you hurt him?" Peter asked, still bewildered by Micky's actions. He kept hearing Micky say he loved Davy, but he never saw him prove it.

"Yeah, I think I'd like to know too." Mike crossed his arms, leaning back on the arm of the couch. "You broke his heart, yknow that?"

Micky buried his head in his hands for a moment before speaking. He finally looked up imploringly at Mike, his eyes wide.

"I was scared, man. I was terrified. I've never loved anyone as much as I love Davy, so I started running away. I didn't know how to deal with that. And then once it happened the first time, it started to feel like a habit, and the longer it went on the more I had to hide it... I know I fucked up, I'm just trynna fix it now."

"If you were scared you should've talked to Davy about that, man. Or even me or Peter. That... bringin’ her here, sleeping in the same bed you and Davy slept in... that was real fucked up, Mick. He refused to sleep there last night." Mike's tone was accusing, and Micky felt his stomach sink, more than it had before, though he hadn't thought it possible. 

"But, but I never meant to do it, he has to know that. I didn't ever mean to hurt him, and it never meant anything with Stella anyways,” Micky tried to explain, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears.

Peter’s voice was soft, and he didn't quite look Micky in the eyes. "If you didn't mean it, you shouldn't have done it." 

“Then what do you want me to do?” Micky snapped.

Peter shuffled his feet. “Micky, I think you should kind of… take a break for a while.”

Micky scowled. “From what?”

A lump formed in Peter’s throat. “From us.”

Micky’s stomach plummeted into his socks. “Are you saying I should quit the band?”

"Mick, it isn't permanent. just.. for a while, y'know? ‘Til Davy's really okay. Then.. then we'll see, but he gets the final say in this.'' Mike wrung his hands, the words left a sour tang in his mouth, but he knew it was what needed to be done. Peter was right, Micky being around wasn't helping Davy at all.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Micky whispered. “You can't be serious. This-- this house, this band, all of it--” he gestured around him, “it's all I have.”

Peter looked down. “Micky…”

Micky shook his head desperately. His head felt like it was spiraling. Spiraling away from him and losing contact with everything. “You can't… Mike, help me out here.”

Mike inhaled deeply and hitched his thumbs in his belt loops. “I’m sorry, Mick. This is the best option. And like I said, it probably won't be forever. Just until y’all cool down.”

A rush of nausea rushed into Micky’s mouth, coating his tongue and seeping into his lungs with a sick, twisted feeling. This felt like a dream. A nightmare, really. It couldn't be real. He tried to take deeper breaths, but his chest felt so tight and constricting.

The band, his friends, Davy-- they were all he had. In retrospect, compared to everything, they were all he ever had. And honestly? He wasn't sure he could survive without them.

“No, I can’t…” Micky struggled to find his words, his mouth opening and closing a few times. “You’re…”

“Micky,” Mike said, and his voice was like a clear warning bell in Micky's mind, but he didn't care.

“Mike, you’re taking the band away from me… you can’t take that away from me, I’m nothing without my music...” Micky pleaded, desperation seeping through every word.

“Micky, please go,” Peter said.

"You.. you really want me out.." Micky said, slowly standing up, realization dawning that maybe, just maybe, his friends were right. 

"If you want me gone, then fine. I'll go. And don't worry, I’m not coming back. This is permanent." And his words filled the room with their finality. "I'll write to let you know where to forward my mail." 

He paused halfway out the door and turned. “I want you to know that this is permanent.”

And then he left, taking his drumsticks with him and shutting the door louder than he had to.


	4. I Had A King

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Davy reflects on his relationship with Micky. Meanwhile, Micky’s made a terrifying change.

Davy closed his door and slid against the wall of his bedroom. He didn't even make it to his bed. 

Well. Not his bed, really. He had been sleeping in Mike's while he took the couch. It was an unspoken agreement between the three of them that no one went inside Davy and Micky's old room, much less slept there.

Davy felt his chest bubble up with a sob. No.

"Shit," he mumbled. "No. You don't cry, Davy. You don't do it. Don't..."

His voice succumbed to the waterfall that was another sob building up. No, not water. Lava.

Resting his head on his knees, Davy tried to breathe. He couldn't get a deep breath in through the gasps that were coming through his throat.

Jesus. He hadn't cried like this in a long time. He didn't even remember the last time he... well... really cried. 

Who the fuck did Micky think he was to break him like this? Who did he think he was?

Davy groaned and put his head back down. His head felt so loud... like all the colors and thoughts and feelings and memories were all crashing over each other into a sick, twisted kind of soup.

Davy's stomach rumbled at the thought of food. But before he could even process that, he felt nausea rise up in his mouth.

He swallowed it down. Once upon a time, Micky would have brought him some cold soda and crackers, then talked a mile a minute to distract him.

Davy choked on his tears again, a self-despairing smile making its way to his face. God… no matter how much he tried not to, he missed Micky. He missed him. He missed his giant smile that seemed to come from nowhere, and his stupid jokes that didn't make sense half the time, and the way Micky would let a knowing look just slowly burst out at him across the breakfast table. They used to have so many silent conversations with only a look. 

Davy had never been able to connect with anyone that way. And now it was gone. It was trying to come back, and Davy was saying no. What was wrong with him? He had to be crazy.

Davy tried to stand. He needed to see Micky, to speak with him. Just for a moment. 

"I have to...." he mumbled, trying to stand. His legs gave out. They were shaking so bad. How did he not notice how badly they were shaking? What was wrong with him?

He missed Micky. That’s what was wrong with him. 

The door opened. "Thought I might find you here."

Davy looked up. He didn't trust his voice.

Mike set a plate down on the floor in front of him. "You hungry?”

Davy risked a glance at it. Crackers. With a glass of cold soda.

Suddenly his stomach felt worse. 

He shook his head. "Where’s....." Davy couldn't bring himself to say his name out loud.

"Peter’s taking Micky home," Mike told him. "I, uh... didn't trust myself." He shook his hand out and Davy wondered what had gone on.

"Uh, Davy."

Davy looked up. 

"I thought you should know that, uh… Micky quit the band. Permanently."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the long hiatus, I promise we're trying to get back on track with this fic!


	5. Wish You Were Sober

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micky finds refuge in an unlikely confidant. Davy finds a stranger in his bedroom.

Maybe it was the way the beer rippled across the foam when Micky tapped the bottle. Maybe it was the musical clinking sound that his fingernail made against the glass. Or maybe it was just the beer.

Either way, Micky stared and stared and the bottle until he wasn't quite sure what a bottle was anymore. 

His head hurt. He felt lightheaded and nauseous. He missed Davy.

“I miss you,” he whispered to the bottle.

The girl on the stool to his right gave him a weird look. She was pretty, and under any other circumstances she would already be in Micky’s apartment half-naked, but Micky paid her no mind. Or tried to, at least.

“Hey, good lookin’,” she said, setting down her beer and swiveling her stool to face him. “Whatcha got cookin?”

Micky didn't look up. She wasn't anywhere near as attractive as Davy was. Is. Was. Is. He didn't know anymore.

“Hey, you hear alright?” the girl yelled, waving her hands in his face, making her bracelets jangle loudly.

Micky jumped. “Yeah, I… what?”

The girl smirked at him, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, so he can speak. What’s your name?”

Micky shook his head. “Leave me alone.”

She laughed. “So you’re the lone ranger, huh? The mystery guy in the corner? Wooing all the girls?” She rolled her eyes. “Well, I got something to tell you, babe.” She leaned closer until her breath was hot on his face. “It's working.”

Micky swallowed down the instinctual feeling of arousal and turned away. “No thanks.”

“What, you got a girlfriend or something?”

“Kind of.”

“What do you mean, kind of? It’s a yes or no answer.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

Realization dawned on her face and she leaned back. “Oh.”

“No. Not that. Well, yes that. I mean….” Micky groaned and put his head down. “I screwed it up with a chick.”

The girl grinned, happy that she was back in the game. “Was she hot?”

“Yes. I mean no. I mean… shit.” He laughed into his shirt sleeve, muffling the sound.

“How’d you ever get two of em?” the girl asked. “Sure wasn't smooth talkin’.”

“Will you leave me alone? I told you no.” 

“Aww, don’t be such a baby,” she scoffed, reaching out and pulling at his hair. “Ooh, you got nice hair. Where'd you get that from?”

“I grew it out,” he mumbled. “Will you please get out of my hair? … Literally?”

He heard her giggle, and she started running her fingers deeper through it. “Oh, you’re a funny man! Funny… why don't you make me laugh again, huh? Say something funny.”

As it became increasingly more clear that she was drunk, it came with a stab of guilt to mind all the times Micky had kept pestering girls after they told him no. Maybe he had a lot to learn.

“Get out.” He sat up straight, throwing her hand off of his head.

“Aww. That ain’t funny, baby,” she sighed, leaning back. “Wanna talk about your boy?”

Micky blinked, taking a quick look at her. He wasn't used to strangers asking for him to spill his darkest troubles to them. “What do you mean?”

She shrugged. “Just, y'know. I’m a good listener. I can shut up sometimes. You wanna have a li’l chat?”

Shifting uncomfortably, Micky looked away from her. “I guess. What do I have to pay you?”

“Nothing. Just maybe a kiss if you're lucky.”

“Very funny.”

“Oh, the king of funny thinks I’m a comedian! You gonna tell me or not?”

Micky rolled his eyes, already becoming comfortable with her. “Fine, fine, don't get bitchy about it.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“Well, there's this guy I’ve been friends with for a long time, and we kind of fell in love. I used to sleep around, I've never felt anything like that, ever,” Micky added hurriedly.

“Yeah, I get ya.” The girl nodded.

Micky nodded back. “And I suppose I got scared, ydig? It was scary, putting all the… parts of my personality out in the open. I’d never had to do that before, not even with my parents, or my sister. But with Davy… With Davy, it felt so easy. Like second nature.” Micky paused.

“Go ahead, cmon,” the girl said. “I know you can do it.”

He snuck a look at her. “Thanks…” He paused again, clearing his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. Telling his feelings to this random chick seemed so wrong and out of order. But he guessed that everything right now was wrong and out of order, so what was wrong with spilling a bit to a girl at the bar?

“And I got scared. And this chick I was friends with was there, practically begging for it. Like you are now,” he added pointedly.

She stuck her tongue out. “Finish the damn story.”

“Alright! Sheesh…” Micky stared back at the beer bottle again. It was weirdly shiny in the dim light. He tapped on the glass again, and the liquid sloshed around. Making little waves.

“When Stella kissed me… it created waves in my life. And they just kept circling out and out and out, and getting bigger. And I guess one day, they’ll just fizzle out and none of this will be a problem anymore, but I don't like that.” 

The girl stayed quiet for a moment, just watching him over her glass. It was half-empty.

Finally, she said, “I get that, man. It makes sense. You know what you have to do?”

“What?” Micky looked back at his beer bottle. 

“I think you need to make a new wave.”

Micky stopped tapping the glass. He slowly turned to look at her. “What do you mean?”

She took a moment to settle back into her chair, satisfied at his reaction. “I mean, you have to do something to stir things up a bit! Make waves. When's the last time you saw your boy?”

Micky blinked, staring at her as his head reeled. “It's been a while,” he finally admitted. 

She nodded, setting her drink down. “See? You need to go see him. Right now.”

Micky scoffed. “Oh, come on, it’s 3am.”

“So? You love this guy, right? You'd do anything to get him back, right?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“Then you have to take him back, and take him with force. It’s romance, buddy, not chess.” 

It’s romance, buddy. Not chess.

Micky shifted. “You have a point.”

“I know I do! If you want him to love you again, you have to actually do something, not sit in a cheap bar with some tacky whore,” she said.

Micky laughed a little at that. “I think I’ll do that. Thanks.” He stood and leaned down to give her a quick kiss, making her squeal with joy.

He turned to go, but she stopped him. 

“Wait. Can I at least know your name?”

Micky blinked. Well, there was no harm to it. “It’s Micky Dolenz. I'm a musician,” he added hastily. 

Her face lit up. “Oh yeah?”

Micky smiled. “Yep.”

“That’s groovy. Do you play the violin or the cello?”

\---------

A warm hand was on Davy’s face. He stirred, mumbling. A thumb rolled over his cheek, fingers caressing his hair.

Davy rolled over, smiling. Warm lips pressed against his, and Davy sat up a little.

"Yeah, that's right, baby. Sit up, there you go." Arms reached around his shoulders and pulled him to his feet.

Davy protested through sleepy, incoherent mumbles.

The person chuckled a bit too loud, their hands slithering down his sides and tying themselves around his waist. 

A head of curls tickled Davy’s face as the person leaned down, leaving sloppy kisses across Davy's chin, almost completely missing the target.

"Who..."

"It’s okay, baby, relax. it's just me. Micky. Your Micky," he whispered.

Davy felt Micky press his hips into his leg, felt him backing him up, felt his spine hit the wall. Whatever Mick was doing, it was nice, Davy decided as he felt his hands held above his head, and Micky's hot breath on his neck. A few more kisses and Davy was more awake, the sour tang of alcohol filling his nostrils.

"M-Micky?" Davy said, and got a deep chuckle in response. A small part of him wanted to let this happen, to let Micky have his way just this once. But the rest of him knew this was wrong, that nothing good could possibly come from it. "Micky.. Micky stop." He started to jerk away, feeling the shock radiating off the other man.

"I thought you were into this,” Micky said, squaring his jaw and looking into Davy's face. Micky didn't like what he saw, the anger, and the underlying fear he glimpsed in Davy's eyes before Davy looked away. "You were into it just now. I know you were." Micky's face hardened, but he didn't strengthen his grip at all.

Davy jerked his body away, pulling his hands out of Micky's. "I thought you were gonna stay away...." He backed a few steps further away from Micky, who looked equal parts confused and angry.

"I needed you, okay? I can't stay away from you!" Micky raised his voice, and Davy noticed the deep slur in his voice. Micky was definitely drunk.

"You need to go. I can't have you here, I don't want you to be here." Davy told him, voice raised to match.

"Well what if I don't want to leave? What if I decide to stay? What are you gonna do about that?" Micky asked, a funny look on his face as he walked towards Davy again. "You gonna call for help? C'mon, you know I wouldn't hurt you."

"I just might do that." Davy added, not taking his eyes off of Micky as he backed towards the door. He'd crossed the room after a few moments, his hand turning the doorknob as soon as he found it. 

"Mike?" he called, hoping he would hear him. Mike was a fairly light sleeper, after all, and their raised voices may have woken him up already.

"Seriously? You couldn't just have a little fun with me? I mean come on, we've been having fun for the past year now, why change a good thing?" Micky half-joked, arms open and inviting, a drunken smile twisting across his face. 

Just as Davy was about to rethink his decision, the door opened more fully, and they both looked back to see Mike.

"What... what's going on?" He questioned, before locking eyes on Micky. "You. What the hell are you doing here, especially at this hour?" Mike demanded, and Micky didn't have a chance to answer before Mike strode over and grabbed him by the shirt collar. "I thought you were gonna leave Davy alone?"

"I was, but then I got awful lonely, drinkin’ all by myself. And I remembered how Davy used to make that feeling disappear. When I tapped on the window but he didn't wake up, so I just climbed right on in and made myself at home." Micky smiled, and it was like the cheshire cat had snuck inside their house instead.

Mike turned back to look at Davy, who'd moved to sit on the bed. "You okay Dav?" Mike asked, but he only got a shrug in response.

"He was fine before you came in,” Micky teased, wriggling free of Mike and laying his hand on Davy's cheek. Davy froze. 

Mike gritted his teeth. He had always hated drunk Micky, but now he really couldn't stand him.

"You're comin' with me." Mike decided, practically dragging Micky to the door, with a lot of complaining as he did. "You were told to leave Davy alone. And you just couldn't let him have a moment of peace." Mike glared, and Micky squirmed under his gaze. "Get out of this fucking house, Micky. And if you come back here uninvited, especially drunk, I'll break that snub nose of yours again,” he threatened, and felt a hint of satisfaction as Micky squeaked in response.

As soon as Mike had quite literally tossed Micky out and locked the door behind him, he rushed back to the bedroom.

"Davy?" He tried to get his friend's attention while he closed the window, making sure it was really locked this time. He heard a soft hum in response. "Hey.. are you okay?" Mike asked, face softening as he saw the look on Davy's face. His friend was terrified.

"Can... can you stay in here tonight?" Davy asked, and Mike thought he'd never sounded more afraid.

"Of course I can...." Mike offered a smile, and Davy scooted over in the bed to make room for his companion. Mike settled next to him, unsure what Davy wanted him to do.

He didn't have to wonder for long though, Davy practically flung himself into Mike's arms.

"I've never seen him like that...." Davy spoke directly into Mike's chest. "He was so angry, for a moment I thought.. I thought he might...." He trailed off. Mike didn't think he wanted to hear how that sentence ended.

"It's okay now.. you're safe. I've got you, and I'm not goin' anywhere." Mike wrapped his arms around Davy, who, in return, nestled himself even closer. "He won't come back here if he knows what's good for him." Mike assured him, and he felt Davy shake a little in his arms.

"Thank you,” he whispered, curling up in Mike's arms, and he realized he felt safe, truly safe there.


End file.
